Tag Archives: chick lit

The Awful

27 Nov

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Am laying in bed, where I have been since 5:30 pm, all snockered on cold meds and every natural remedy that anyone on FB sees fit to throw at me.

…I have no time for a cold.  So for now I’ll just say, “I have ‘symptoms.'” 

I thought they were all chemically-induced from the office, but turns out that no sleep and bad habits, and lots of shows, and cast parties, and cleaning offices all day, kinda takes it outta yuh.  I even had to give up on the last BFF hang date, because I’m a grown-up with responsibilities, a 10 am performance tomorrow, a first blocking rehearsal for the other show to follow, and Corporate waiting to haunt me on Wednesday morning.

I’m all booked. 

…So the cold bugs gotta go find another hotel to check in at. 

End of story.

…This is why I’m typing my “tomorrow” blog ahead of time, “today”…while I am laying here doing not much else, but watching gross amounts of chick-lit, turned-into-movies, on illegal downloads that I feel really badly about…only I wanna watch ’em and they aren’t streaming on Netflix, so I justify by erasing as soon as the credits start rolling.

Mostly, they feature Ginnifer Goodwin.

…Cuz due to my new Marty-induced “Once Upon A Time” fascination…she is a new theatre/film crush I’ve been forced to stalk, of late.

Every so often, I push the pause button, and wander either to the bathroom to pee, or the kitchen to force-feed myself another form of hot toddy, in order to then make me pee more, in hopes that the germs will just flash-flood out of my body, in bulk.

Incidentally, the toddys are not working.

My throat is a fucking wreck, and I’ve tried at least eight kinds of hot mixings so far, only one of which included alcohol…and that, the latest, which I’m drinking now. I hope the little buggers burst into flames all down my throat.

But it doesn’t seem to be happening.

…Other non-whiskey mug-features tonight have included: honey, lemon, cyan pepper, tea, and plain hot water…all set at scalding temperatures, swilled generously, in many combinations. After my second dose of Airborne, and the latest chick-flick coming to it’s end, I’ve decided to give up.

Fuck it.

…I’ve gargled salt and Listerine. I’ve DayQuil’d n’ Benadryl’d. I’ve whiskey’d and tossed n’ turned, with burning fever, pinch-hitting scalding toddy-induced sweats.

I’m tired.

…I’m gonna just shoot the rest from my mug, roll over, and pull on the lamp chain.

Lights out.

…Goodwin got the fella.

…I can’t remember when I took my last cold-pill, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

…I’ve got a show to do for children, tomorrow.

…It’s Shakespeare.

…My call is 8:30am.

…I normally would just be starting my first cup of coffee by then.

…Talkback to follow.

…I have bills still to pay.

…And then: rehearsal.

In short: I’m doomed. But for now, I have a pillow and a bed, and one should never let those go to waste, by God!

…And so I won’t.

…Oh…my fucking throat…!!

~D

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